The Connellys
by nightshade468
Summary: [August Rush] What happened after August's Rhapsody, because a happily ever after is only ever the beginning of another story. Marshall's p.o.v. T for now, rating may go up.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own none of the Connellys, nor do I lay claim to any other character from August Rush. The Donovans are mine.

The Connellys

Chapter One

_Nobody's perfect. I'm certainly not, nor is anyone I know. And in reality, no one can really find a person by playing music. It just doesn't happen anywhere except in fairy tales._

_I wish I could say this is a fairy tale. That my life ended in a happily ever after. But it never really ends with that, does it? After the cameras stop rolling, I mean. No one ever shows what happens then._

_Sure, I've been told the story, many times. The orphaned musical prodigy runs away, goes to Julliard, and finds his parents. Louis and Lyla and Evan. The Connellys. Lyla starts to play again, Evan goes back to Julliard (when he's not in middle school), and The Connelly Brothers start to book gigs again. Everything is perfect._

_But really, that never lasts. So I suppose you can blame this story on Steve's wife getting preggers._

The old garage Louis had managed to get for the afternoon is a shithole, frankly. And people aren't exactly lining up out the door to try out for the band. But Steve's new wife had discovered, just two days before, that she's got the newest O'Malley on the way, and so the happy da-to-be had (after fainting, to Marshall's endless amusement), hopped on the first plane back to sunny California, leaving the Connelly Brothers short one bass player for their gig that Saturday.

Muttering, the elder Connelly checks the amps one last time, taking stock of the three hopefuls out of the corner of his eye. Louis is talking to the youngest, who'd gotten here first; the lad still has horrible acne, and his voice is cracking. Like any respectable record label would take a second glance at them with that boyo on the stage. Pah.

Rolling his eyes, he looks over the other two men, both yuppies on their lunch break if his guess is correct (and it usually is).

"'Re we good to go?" his brother asks, jolting Marshall out of his thoughts, and he nods, giving him the thumbs up and stepping back. Might as well get this over with. Taking a seat next to Aaron on one of the folding chairs to the side of their makeshift stage, Marshall props his boots up on a plastic crate.

"Crappy place, 'n't it?" he mutters, and the drummer grunts in agreement. Louis joins them a moment later, and all three men sit back as the lad starts to play.

Half an hour later, Marshall sends a quick prayer for tolerance towards the ceiling as the third man exits the stage to his brother's (mostly) polite thanks.

Once he slams the door behind him, Louis grunts, dropping his chair back from two legs onto four. "What're we goin' to do?" he asks, sounding tired. "We can't play without a bass man."

"No shit," Marshall mutters, remembering the teenage lad's flat chords with a wince. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he's cut off by the door banging open.

"Are you guys looking for a bass?" a gruff voice calls, the sound echoing through the room as a tall guy with scruffy dark hair stomps in. When he gets close enough in the dim light, Marshall can see that the man's hair is threaded with grey, though he doesn't look old enough for it.

Pale eyes narrow as the guy eyes the setup. "Not bad," he allows, looking over their equipment. Turning back to them, he eyes first Aaron, then Louis, then Marshall, who hasn't bothered to stand like the others. "Don't suppose you've already found someone?"

"Not yet," Louis allows, one brow raised. Marshall just raises an arm, pointing towards the stage.

"All yours, boyo."

Smirking a little, the man nods, stepping up onto the stage and getting himself situated. A moment later, he starts to tune, and then looks over at them with his brows raised, expectant. Louis just waves at him to start.

And he does. All three of the men watching raise their brows as they listen.

He plays easily, looking comfortable enough up there, unlike the second man, who'd turned funny shades of green and looked so tense he might shatter. And he's good. Good enough to have played for years. Marshall glances at Aaron and then catches Louis' eye, nodding.

They've found one to suit them, thank God in Heaven.

When he's done, Louis beckons him over. "Can ye be here on Friday at seven?" he asks, and the guy grins, his face suddenly relaxing into a smile.

"I guess I could manage that."

"Good." Louis leans back in his chair, kicking another one towards the guy; he sits, after setting his guitar carefully in its case. Marshall watches him carefully; he likes a man who loves his instruments.

Louis is still going. "The show's at nine on Saturday, at the Mirror." He names a club in Manhattan. And then he seems to remember something, grinning a bit. "What's yer name?"

Grinning back a bit, the guy holds out his hand. "Gerry Donovan."

Louis takes it, and gestures to his brother and their drummer. "I'm Louis. That's Marshall, and Aaron Maguire." He smiles. "Welcome to the Connelly Brothers."


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to the people who hold the rights to August Rush. And my, but isn't that ambivalent… ::cackles::

a/n::hugs reviewers:: Thank you, guys, seriously, reviews make my day. This story is post-movie, which should be a lot clearer in this chapter; I'm sorry if it wasn't before. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

The crowd roars as the last chord fades away, but you almost wouldn't notice what with the amount of noise people are generating. Marshall runs a hand through sweaty hair, grinning as he watches his brother take a last bow.

They don't have anything near an album yet, but he's certainly not going to say no if some lass wants him to sign along her neckline, which is admittedly a good bit lower than the nuns at the local school he'd attended would have permitted. But hell, he's not one to make a pretty girl unhappy. Never in life. And when her friend wants the same treatment, well, what is a gentleman to do but oblige her?

Louis drags him away a few minutes later as he's started up a little chat with them, to the elder brother's dismay. "Come on, I was just makin' friends!"

"Make friends _after_ we load up the van." Louis lets him go, carrying his guitar case over to their current mode of transportation, carefully setting it in.

"Being hitched's ruined ye!" Marshall bellows after him, and then he grins when his little brother flips him off. "Yer _wife_ wants ye home by a certain time, eh?"

Louis stands, leaning against the van as he watches his brother struggle with one of the amps, not bothering to help. "Aye," he says simply, hooking an arm around Marshall's neck after he's deposited the amp in the van. "But who's the one shaggin' the beautiful woman every night, brother? Which one of us?"

"Shut up." Growling, Marshall shoves him away, but he can't help but smile wryly at his little brother's laughter. "Cheeky little shit."

"Who's shagging a beautiful woman?" Gerry asks, coming out the back of the club carrying a piece of Aaron's drum set.

"Not me," Marshall mutters, taking the drum from him and setting it in the van. "My little brother just got himself married."

Louis is beaming now, looking like a total sap and obviously not caring at all. "Three months ago. Our son is ten, he's an amazing musician."

"That's putting it a bit mildly," Marshall says, raising his brows. "The boy's in Julliard. An honest-to-God musical prodigy." Louis just beams proudly.

"No shit?" Gerry says, looking impressed. "That's… wow. Congratulations, man." He slaps Louis on the back.

The van gets stuck in traffic, of course, as it's a Friday night in Manhattan, and of course the main topic on the mind of every man, at that moment, is food. Hey, they'd just played two sets. They're hungry.

"I'd kill for a burger and a Bud," Aaron mutters, rubbing his stomach pitifully.

"Traitor," Marshall accuses, grinning and smacking him upside the head. "Have a Guinness with me, instead."

"Marshall, ye're still comin' over for Lyla's fancy Thanksgivin' dinner, right?" Louis asks suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning partway around in his seat so he can see his brother and Gerry in the back. "And Aaron, too."

"Aye." The drummer grins. "Free food? Count me in."

Marshall nods, elaborating for Gerry's sake; the other man looks confused. Christ, but he's always forgetting that the bass man had just joined their little crew what, two days ago? And the rest of them, three peas in a pod. It's a strange feeling, although he likes the other man.

"Louis' wife is a Yank; she's throwing us all a big Thanksgiving dinner." He shrugs, grinning. "We always got pizza and beer before, but now Louis is _married_-" Now it's Louis' turn to be smacked upside the head, and they roughhouse for a minute before settling back down again.

"Sounds nice," Gerry says, smiling a bit but still looking withdrawn.

"Got big plans yerself?" Marshall pries. Why not?

Gerry shakes his head, looking hesitant. "My sister, she… well, neither of us can cook, and my other sister… she died, a few months ago. My parents are already gone." He smiles wryly. "It's pizza for us, this year, I think. Maybe we've traded places."

Marshall sits back, feeling guilty now. "Christ, I'm sorry, mate."

The two brothers exchange a glance and a nod with Aaron while Gerry looks out the window, obviously embarrassed.

"Well, there's nothing else for it," Marshall says, after a moment, and Louis nods. At Gerry's odd look, he smiles just a little. "You're coming over to eat with us."


End file.
